The Petty Thieves
by Excellent Falsehood
Summary: Voldemort is gone, but Harry knows that the Wizarding World has bigger worries than Dark Lords. And now he finds himself in the one adventure he never expected: a political upheaval. Written Post HBP.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of its affiliated trademarks. Seriously. I don't.

'_We hang the petty thieves and appoint the great ones to public office.' _– Aesop.

**The Petty Thieves**

Perhaps it was because he had lost too many people whilst trying to save this world that he could not leave it now. Perhaps it was simply his saviour complex, tugging at his conscience for one last, infuriating time. Or perhaps, as Fred and George had told him, he had gone completely mad.

Harry Potter did not know. But what he did know was simple; the frailties of the Wizarding World that he had entered as an eleven year old ran far deeper than a simple Dark Lord – if one could give such a description to Tom Riddle.

This world – this culture – was brimful of corruption and bigotry; from nepotism to bribery, purist fanaticism to deadly narcissism, this was a society that was teetering upon the very edges of self-destruction. And he would be damned if he let it topple into the crushing embrace of oblivion; too many of those that he loved – of those that had loved him – had died for that, consumed in unearthly green light, sent rushing from this world.

It was with this thought in mind, this unnatural – well, for Harry at least – fixation, that he had decided to try and exercise some control over the power balance of the Wizarding World. And as with all great political upheavals, it began with scandal…

---

In the months after Voldemort's fall the Aurors corps found itself suddenly bereft of trained veterans, and even shorter on willing new applicants. The wizards of this new generation had seen war up close, had seen past its lacklustre glory, and into its ruinous, obscene aftermath. And so, when any criminal goings on were discovered, the aurors were stretched perilously thin, lacking numbers and training. Naturally, the more senior members realised the seriousness of the situation and, for the first time since its foundation, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had taken up witches and wizards on a volunteer basis. Of course, when the problem was particularly severe, Shacklebolt, the newly appointed Volunteer Liaison Officer, found his list of qualified volunteers severely depleted.

The portfolio on Kingsley's desk was perhaps the worst case of abuse of Magical Beasts by Dark Wizards since the end of the War; it detailed, in detached, neutral tones – that somehow managed to magnify the horror of which they spoke – the kidnapping and somewhat strange mutilation of seventeen werewolves in the last four months, by a deadly group of underground smugglers. The list of requirements for volunteer back-up for such a case were extensive; basic espionage and stealth skills, advanced defensive and offensive spellwork, and an ability to handle exceedingly dangerous Magical Creatures. And these were but the main, foreseeable qualities that would be required…

Montague had told Kinsley that he required four extra wands for this case, and the Volunteer Liaison Officer had already found three. There were two names list left on the list; the first was Alexandra McGonagall – a distant relation to the Hogwarts Professor – but, unfortunately, she had previously confessed to Kinsley a deadly fear of all canine animals. And that left only one name…

Harry Potter.

By far the most qualified member on the volunteer list, he would probably have been the Ministry's best Auror had he wanted the job on a full-time basis. But he hadn't. The war had been hard on him; friends lost, enemies dead, purpose over; it tugged at Shacklebolt's heartstrings to disturb him during his recuperation, but he had no other choice. The other three witches and wizards were, at best, competent back up; Harry on the other hand…well, he was handy in a fight.

And so it was with a heavy heart that he firecalled Grimmauld Place, Harry's new place of residence.

'Potter, you in?'

'Yeah, hold on…', a voice drifted in from another room. 'Oh, hello Kingsley. What's this all about? Wait – let me guess, I'm finally being taken up on my offer to volunteer for the aurors? About time…it's gotten a bit boring round here.'

'You don't mind?', asked a bewildered Kingsley. He hadn't thought it would be so easy.

'Sure. What's the problem?'

'Well, can't tell you right now, but there'll be a more secure briefing tomorrow at noon. Floo to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Ministry of Magic, but remember to state your name first.'

'Ok. You gonna be there?'

'No. Sorry. The auror in charge is Charles Montague – he'll fill you in. Anyway, I've gotta be going; I'll catch you later, maybe.' And with that he ended the firecall.

'Well', Harry thought 'must be fairly important if he's finally got over his embarrassment and asked for my help.'

---

The four volunteers found themselves together, waiting for their professional counterparts so that they could make their way into the Briefing Room. Harry thought that the three other members of the little group were really quite calm; although, he reasoned, they had probably been here before. If Shacklebolt had thought this case important enough to disturb him – not that he minded – then this was obviously a dangerous mission, making these three other witches and wizards some of the better, and therefore more frequently demanded, unpaid part-timers. The walls of the large building looked as battered as some of its employees, the wood panelling faded in places, and cracked in others. The whole place – inhabitants included – looked like it might fall over with a good shove.

All of a sudden, Auror Charles Montague – as Harry could tell from his authoritative demeanour – strode into the corridor, followed by three colleagues. He had a hard face, and Harry could tell that he had truly fought in this war, that he had battled, and probably lost more than a man should. Montague did not look a pleasant man; but, Harry estimated, he had probably survived this entire war with the Aurors, making him a more than competent wizard.

'Well, in we go', the leader said. He gestured with his head to the door of the Briefing Room, and the seven other men and women shuffled in behind him, Harry walking in last.

Montague took his place at the head of the large oak table, upon which eight folders were laid out neatly. Harry took a seat and glanced at the top of his folder and saw it was marked 1327/2006.

Montague, as lead Auror, proceeded to explain the particulars of the case; for the past two full moons, a group of smugglers had trapped a number of werewolves and removed certain body parts that were believed to be useful for potions; teeth, ears and, in one case, a liver. The team would meet outside New Forest, near Southampton, by means of apparition; a photo of the rendezvous point was provided for each member of the team. It was here that the smugglers had operated – quite literally – on a number of the wilder werewolves.

Once this was done, the lead Auror ran through the potential hazards of the case, and the tactics the team would use.

'Right', he started, 'this lot are highly trained wizards; about the worst we've come up against since the end of the war. So make sure you're alert at all times; this isn't some bunch of half-wits with their wands stick too far up their noses to realise when they're being followed. Stick with you partner, and part-timers always have to pair up with an Auror proper.' Here he indicated the section of the portfolio that stated which volunteers were partnered with which full-timers; Harry was to be on watch-duty with one Catherine Montgomery, a fresh-faced young woman who looked as if she had barely finished her Auror training.

'Go home, study your files, then burn them; report to the rendezvous point at 18:00 tomorrow evening. Potter, Montgomery, you can go, we're going through the approach tactics, and you won't need to cover those in detail; make sure to take a look at them,' and here he motioned to the papers in their hands, 'just in case, though.'

And that, Harry realised, was his cue to leave. He walked through the door, Montgomery, a few seconds behind him.

Not wanting to endure the unerring curiosity that an inexperienced auror like Montgomery was sure to possess, Harry resorted to an old trick he'd learnt during the war. Droop your shoulders; keep your head just below upright; shrug backwards into a busy hallway. Gone. Disappeared. Just like magic.

He waited until Montgomery realised she'd lost him, then walked back to the Briefing Room door.

With a quick check to make sure nobody was watching, he held his wand to the door, and, with a brief flash of concentration, thought the words, '_Custodis Auris _'. Suddenly, he could once more here the voices from inside the room.

'…don't care if he killed Voldemort', came Montague's voice. 'Nobody actually seems to know if he's any good as a duellist, and apart from a Dark Lord he was _prophesised_ to kill, there aren't any official reports of him fighting against the Dark Arts. _That's _why he's on guard duty. I'd like to see Harry Potter in action as well – but quite frankly we know nothing about him apart from hearsay, and even that's mixed.'

'Okay, chief…no need to bite my head off!'

With a wordless '_Finite Incantatem_', Harry removed his wand through the door. At least that explained why he had been given the job with the least responsibility attached, and he did not blame Montague; his role in the war had been carefully hidden. The mission to destroy the horcruxes had been kept secret, with only key Orders Members informed on the mission's progress. Moreover, the fight against Voldemort had not involved vast battles, or scenes of Tolstoy-esque grandeur. Instead, it had been a three-year marathon of guerrilla warfare; the battles Harry had been involved with had been small, but deadly, and his skill with a wand had hardly, if ever, been reported. He had, therefore, remained an unknown quantity, except within certain Death Eater circles, and the Order of the Phoenix.

He would watch from the sidelines for this one then, unless he was needed…

---

The thin rays of moonlight shone through the canopy of treetops, casting their luminous gaze upon the magical forest that Harry currently found himself in. There were a million noises that protruded upon his ears; from the rustling of leaves in a mid-autumn wind, to the sharp scuffle of tiny rodents, scampering through the midnight woods. And yet, Harry thought, these sounds combined only to make up an eerie silence; this was nature undisturbed, without impurity, without man' intervention. He took a deep breath of fresh air, relishing in the harmony that this habitat presented, a wondrous moment stretching out into eternity.

And that was when the proverbial poo hit the fan.

Harry's job – and that of his partner Montgomery – was to make sure that the other aurors weren't caught in a wide-arcing pincer movement from behind. This meant that as well as watching their backs, they had to clear the tracks of the other eight team-members, and their own. The likelihood of being so comprehensively out-manoeuvred was exceedingly small, but it was a danger nonetheless; thus, the Boy-Who-Lived and his newfound partner-in-crime were well away from the action, keeping a watchful eye out for just such a flanking movement. This, though, was the least of their problems, as Harry had quickly begun to realise.

For up ahead, where the other eight witches and wizards had endeavoured upon their ambush of the smugglers' operational headquarters, there had come the unmistakeable trace of a muffled yell, and a distinctly sharper curse. Flashes of multi-coloured light were flung about, usually corresponding with another cry. And, Harry noted, with a deepening sense of discomfort, the yells he could hear all belonged to his auror colleagues.

'Right, Montgomery, come with me. Looks like we're gonna have to bail out the rest of our team.'

'But, em, Potter, we've been told to stick to our positions.'

'Yes; but on the condition that everything's going to plan. Evidently, it's not.'

'Ok. But you should know, I've, er, never done this before.'

'That's alright', Harry replied, with a comforting smile. 'I'd already guessed. Just watch my back, and we should be ok.'

With that said, he turned towards the scene of the commotion; there was no point, Harry knew, to casting a Disillusionment Charm on himself, since the dark would hide him well enough and such a charm would fail as soon as he cast his first spell. Within twenty seconds he and his partner found themselves upon the edge of a small clearing; Harry quickly surveyed the situation and realises that seven of the team had been stunned or similarly incapacitated. Montague had just been put under an 'Incarcerous'. This, Harry thought, was slightly peculiar; by all accounts this gang of smugglers was entirely ruthless, sometimes only releasing werewolves so that they could 'harvest' them at another full moon. He would have to find out exactly what was going on here. Going out on a limb, he stepped out of the shadows and into the view of three of his adversaries; he saw Montague's eyes bulge in disbelief. The man nearest to him cast a Stunning Spell, shouting the well-known incantation. Non-lethal, and not aimed at causing any permanent damage.

They were being positively _nice_.

Not wishing to deflect the Stupefying Charm onto anyone else, he used a non-verbal '_Mobilisilex_' to move a large rock into the spell's way. With the same wand movement he cast a wordless Banishing Charm, wincing as the small boulder crushed into the other man's belly, who dropped to the floor, incapacitated. By now, the other two men had decided to get involved; one sent powerful a Freezing Curse, and now that Harry was a little further from the others, he blocked it with a basic Hex Deflector, which could be cast without a verbal incantation. Montgomery had begun exchanging spells with the other wizard. All the while, Harry kept his mind clear of everything but the duel, carefully occluding his mind; once he was happy that neither of these two men were Leglimens, he moved onto the offensive, gently probing into the mind of the man facing him. Harry already knew that there was a Cutting Curse being sent towards him before the words had left the other man's mouth, and so dodged it deftly.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see that Montgomery was holding her own against the smaller man, but seemed to be on the defensive for long periods. The longer this went on, the more frustrated the smuggler would become and the more likely he was to use the Dark Arts; Harry would have to keep half an eye on his partner. His more immediate concern, though, was to overcome the larger wizard; his Stunning Charm was easily repelled by the other man's '_Protego'_. Struck by a sudden thought, Harry made as if to send another Stupefying Charm, but at the final moment gave his wrist a quick flick, whilst focusing on the words _'Stupefy Subdolus'_. The charm – one of his own creation – was a variation of '_Stupefy_' which could not be blocked by a simple Shield Charm. The look on the man's face as he fell to the purple-tinted charm was, Harry thought, really rather funny.

The situation quickly lost its humour though as he realised that Mont_gomery_ was coming towards him, wand raised high, a gleam in her eye. A quick glance at the last smuggler revealed a visage of intense concentration. Catherine, he realised, was under the Imperius curse, and was about to hex him into oblivion. He saw a burst of purple light coming towards him; thinking quickly he shouted the words '_Sive Speculum_'. A large, double-sided mirror appeared in mid-air before him and Harry reached out, grabbing it; with a surge of willpower Harry sent his magic, invisibly, through his hands, reinforcing the structure of the mirror, whilst angling it towards the last of the Dark wizards. The purple light hit the mirror, and with a huge reverberating clang, bounced off, rushing off to hit the smallest smuggler, who immediately began to choke.

'Ah', Harry thought, 'the Throat-Constricting Hex'.

He swiftly disarmed armed the man, then cast the counter-curse.

'Why were you being so tame?', Harry asked him.

The man's eyes flickered suspiciously, before trying to assert that he didn't know what Harry was talking about.

But Harry was having none of it and said, 'You can't fool me; somebody obviously told you we were coming, and then ordered you to do no lasting damage. Who?'

'I refuse to say anything until I have a solicitor with me', the man replied nervously.

Harry knew that he could not let that happen; whoever had given this man his information either worked at the Ministry, or could pull some strings there. Growling slightly, he raised his fringe, bringing his famous scar into view. 'You think I survived the war with my morals intact?', he asked. This was a bluff of course, but the smuggler needn't know that.

The criminal gulped slightly. 'Look all I know is that we had contact with someone in the Department of International Magical Cooperation'.

Harry leaned over him threateningly, implying that if the man knew anything it would be in his best interests if he told him now. Nothing was forthcoming, though, and Harry, a proficient but not excellent Leglimens, was fairly sure the man wasn't hiding anything.

**A/N: **Here endeth chapter one. Hope ya liked it. And review. Please, review!

Yours,

Excellent Falsehood!


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